


Coming Home (into your arms)

by mariamegale



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Play, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom/sub Undertones, Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Meet-Cute, Praise Kink, Smut, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, soft dom babe, together, very soft Dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28095501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariamegale/pseuds/mariamegale
Summary: “Is it so wrong to think a couple of words on you shouldn't determine your life? I just don’t think our lives should be dictated by this one moment and we should all try to find ways to break what’s frankly a curse, not a blessing!”Babe is so good at talking, he definitely should have been in the debate club in high school. Just imagine the things he could’ve accomplished if he’d had that on his resume. But on the other hand, he probably wouldn’t have gotten laid as much, and those two moments from his late teens are fond memories of his.“You’re literally the only one who thinks that, though,” Bill says before Babe can continue, back to looking at his phone. “And it’s just because you’re scared of bees, and we all know it.”(Maybe, if the universe cared, it wouldn't have riddled a terrified-of-insects Babe Heffron with “Excuse me, but there’s a bee in your hair” on his skin to cause terror for ten years.But, the universe made this match, after all, not him. At some point, because of something they did or not, it was decided that Babe Heffron and Eugene Roe were going to be together, and they’re just playing with that hand that was dealt them.)
Relationships: Edward "Babe" Heffron/Eugene Roe
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32
Collections: Heavy Artillery Holiday Exchange 2020





	Coming Home (into your arms)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coupe_de_foudre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coupe_de_foudre/gifts).



> Hey there! I'll come back later and add a more elaborate note when authors are revealed, but for now I just wanna say it's been a fucking blast to be a part of the 2020 Holiday Exchange, with massive thanks to the mods and the lovely **coupe_de_foudre** for being my giftee! :)
> 
> This fic is a combination of two of their prompts;
> 
>   * Anything with Babe Heffron/Eugene Roe
>   * George Luz/Joe Toye: soulmate AU in any setting
> 

> 
> (I went with Baberoe soulmate AU, I hope that's okay <3) as well as a take on [this very old tumblr post](https://edema--ruh.tumblr.com/post/126107738491/soulmate-au-where-enjolras-has-sorry-i-dont-mean) that's been living rent free in by brain since 2015. (For archival purposes, it's also quoted in the end notes.)
> 
> That's it for now, hope you enjoy!

Babe has never really given much thought to the concept of soulmates. 

Or, well, of course he’s thought about it. It’s difficult not to, when you wake up one morning with words all over you and now live your life waiting to hear those fateful words that means that now, you have officially found your Perfect Person; no question about it, no point in arguing, happy ever after and time to slap a bow on it. 

He’s just never been fond of the idea that he’s legally required to love someone just because he has… Half their soul, or whatever it is (he didn’t exactly ace his religion classes in school.) Whatever God smoked one day that made Him decide it was a good idea to plaster the first words of a random person on your skin, forever, it wasn’t anything Babe was really interested in.

He was a good boy and attended all his DARE seminars, okay? He knows how to say no, at least in theory, even if he maybe hasn’t cared all that much about certain substances that have since gotten legalised. See, Babe remembers learning about Henry VIII in school, too, and knows that the king stands above the church in their modern society. 

Except, of course, instead of the church, it’s a weird 80s anti-drug campaign, and instead of the king it’s the federal government. Not that it’s necessarily legal where he lives or by federal law, but it’s not entirely illegal, either, so. Maybe the federal government is the pope, actually? And it’s actually individual states that are… Okay, this metaphor fell apart. 

But who’s looking at the details? Point is, Babe is a good boy, he sometimes smokes weed, he doesn’t really care about finding his—

“Oh shut the fuck up, you’re so full of shit,” Julian snaps at him, taking his hand off his face and reaching over the table to steal Babe’s beer from him.

“Hey!” Babe shouts, glaring angrily at his friend as Julian downs the last of his beer. Next to him, Bill looks up from his phone.

“Is Babe done talking crap about soulmates yet?” His voice is tired and Babe feels incredibly offended. These are his friends, and he is talking about interesting and fascinating things, here, they should at the very least be paying attention and not texting their fiancées or bringing him down when he’s being smart.

But before he can get another _“hey!”_ out, Julian puts Babe’s now-empty glass down on the table and glares back at him. “Stop it with this nonsense of not wanting to find him, Babe, you’re just as fucked as the rest of us. You’re just whiny because you’re afraid of—”

“Shut up!” Babe has the worst friends in the whole world. “I have the worst friends in the whole world! I could be trying to stage a revolution against a system that’s trying to…”

“Oppress people?” Bill says tiredly, and Babe snaps his fingers and points at him without looking away from Julian’s exasperated face.

“Thank you, Billiam,” he continues without missing a beat. Babe is so good at talking, he definitely should have been in the debate club in high school. Just imagine the things he could’ve accomplished if he’d had that on his resume. But on the other hand, he probably wouldn’t have gotten laid as much, and those two moments from his late teens are fond memories of his. 

If only the sex had been good, it might’ve even been something to put in his autobiography. Anyway, he’s getting off track. “I just don’t think our lives should be dictated by this one moment and we should all try to find ways to break what’s frankly a curse, not a blessing!”

“You’re literally the only one who thinks that, though,” Bill says, back to looking at his phone. “And it’s just because you’re scared of bees, and we all know it.”

“I am not—“ Babe hisses, but gets cut off by Bill being a dick, as per usual.

“Hey, Babe, there’s a bee in your hair.” And Babe knows Bill is just messing with him, but he can’t help having to compulsively rub his fingers over his hair to make sure that there is, in fact, not a bee just sitting there waiting to strike. But he does glare at his supposed best friend while he does it.

“It’s not cool to say other people’s soulmate words like that, and you know it.” Babe is trying to sound angry, but Bill rolls his eyes and Julian snickers, so he continues out of pure anger: “Well it’s fucking better than just having ‘hello,’ at least I’ll know who it fucking is while the life is draining out of my body!”

The second he says it, he knows he messed up. Bill stops with his thumbs hovering over his phone, in the middle of a text, and Julian’s face has gotten wiped of any semblance of joy. “Not fucking cool, Babe,” he says, pushing his chair out from the table. “We all know you’re a fucking hopeless romantic, everything you say is bullshit, that’s why we’re calling you out. If you feel like I go to far, tell me, don’t pull this kind of fucking shit—“

“Hey, no, I’m sorry, you’re right,” Babe hurries to say, reaching over the table to grab one of Julian’s hands, hoping that by squeezing hard enough he’ll be able to make his words seem more true. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I know you guys are just messing around, I should’ve told you it wasn’t funny, you’re right.”

Julian looks at him for a few moments, his expression a bit closed off, and Babe really hopes the apology is written on his face. “It’s okay,” he eventually says, scooting his chair back in. “Buy me a beer and we’ll be done with it.”

As Babe gets up to get Julian his ‘sorry for being a jerk about your soulmate word’ beer, Babe tries really hard to not run his hands through his hair again.

A lot of people are afraid of bugs, okay? Babe had already very deeply and firmly established his mild phobia for them by the time he turned fifteen and the fucking words showed up on his chest, like the universe was mocking him. 

The worst part wasn’t even that he knew that sometime, one horrible day, there would be a bee trying to make its hellspawn nest in his hair — it could be any time, any day, up until it happened. Babe was living in a cocoon of fear, caught in the hell of trying to live his life knowing that any moment, there could be a bee in his hair, and the meeting of his soulmate would be marred by terror.

Well, at least he could feel relatively safe for the moment — it was only January, and thanks to living somewhere at least generally northern, Babe trusted he wasn’t going to get terrorised by any insect for a while yet. Be they sent by fate or not.

As he pays for the beers, Babe yet again considers moving to Antarctica. Maybe his friends were right, maybe it was silly to try to throw away his shot at destiny-intended love, but it was a sacrifice Babe was probably willing to make.

But of course, destiny doesn’t really care for personal fears or wants; if it did, the world wouldn’t be littered with people like Julian, who only had a single _‘Hello’_ on his arm and thus had to rely on always remembering to say outrageous things to people when he met them to have a chance at finding the right one.

It wouldn’t allow for the black market of tattoo removal and replacements, visited in secret by desperate people in couples or alone willing to pay an exuberant amount of money to have someone removed, or added, to their skin. 

There would have been no laws declaring soulmate words to be legally binding, leading to hundreds of years of witnesses called to courts to testify whether they did or did not hear a meeting happen. It wouldn’t have created the schism of discrimination towards people from cultures with no written language, and no market to exploit those with abstract shapes in lieu of written words on their skin.

And, more relevant to Babe Heffron’s situation in the second decade of the second millennia, it would not get a man with a debilitating fear of bees and hornets the words _“Excuse me, but there’s a bee in your hair”_ in black ink on the spot over his heart.

Destiny doesn’t care, it just does, and at the end of it all, the day would come when Babe would meet the person who’s unknowingly caused a lot of grief in his 24-year-old life.

In the end, it happens like this:

Eugene Roe wakes up at six AM, as per usual. He gets up, and he brushes his teeth, and he doesn’t check his calendar. In fact, he gets through the whole routine of his morning without checking it, up to and including forgetting breakfast because he got stuck reading the newspapers instead of finishing making that sandwich, and ends up having to run out of his apartment to make it to the hospital on time.

It’s not until he’s standing at the bus stop close to his house that he actually brings up his schedule on his phone, and Eugene is so annoyed at what he finds that he doesn’t even care when his bus pulls up and drives off without him. Or, what would’ve been his bus.

Because of course, he doesn’t work the day shift today; in fact, he doesn’t work at all this fine Saturday morning, and has now missed out on catching up on sleep because he didn’t check this shit before he left home.

Eugene is usually good at keeping track of his schedule, okay? He takes pride in knowing what he has to do, when he has to do it, and where he needs to be to do it. He doesn’t usually forget things, definitely not whole days off. There’s a voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like Ralph Spina, telling him he’s working too much and doing too little of… Other things. Whatever he’s supposed to do when he’s not working.

But now that’s come back to bite him, because he’s standing at this bus stop just before eight AM, the warm summer sun shining down on him, and his schedule for the day has suddenly been wiped clean. So what to do, now?

Figuring he might as well take advantage of this early morning he’s gotten, he decides to take a walk around Philadelphia, see if he can maybe find somewhere to sit down and get breakfast. Eugene’s stomach twinges happily at the thought, and Ralph’s nagging voice is yet again in his head, which annoys him enough to get Gene into a bad mood as he walks away from the bus stop.

It’s just been a lot lately, okay, and maybe his routines have been slipping more than usual even for him. He does end up contemplating it, which is probably a good thing, re-evaluating his priorities as he slowly walks through the city, looking out for a cafe that feels calm enough.

He doesn’t end up finding a great place for a while, because most places are either not open this early or they’re catering to the early bird crowd and are thus already full enough for Gene to pass them up. The sun is shining, he has the day off, he wants to have his breakfast outside, alright? What’s the point in sitting inside when the weather actually allows you to be outdoors?

That sentiment doesn’t seem to be shared by everyone, though. Eugene manages to find a place he likes after a while, with a clientele that seems like they much more prefer a temperature controlled inside environment, as demonstrated by the (admittedly cute, Gene notices, but he absolutely isn’t the person to randomly ask strangers for their numbers at cafés on Saturday mornings) redhead in front of him talking to the barista.

“Are you sure?” He asks, leaning against the counter while the barista demonstratively pushes his mug closer to him, wearing a tired ‘I don’t get paid enough for this’ smile.

“I’m sorry, sir, but unless someone leaves, all our free tables are outside. You can wait if you want, but I have to help the other customers.”

The man looks around, noticing Eugene standing at a polite distance behind him, and his cheeks darken a little bit. “No, thanks, it’s fine, sorry for being… Sorry.”

He picks up his receipt and mug and walks awkwardly out the front door, at a weird pace that tells Eugene he’d probably much rather be running. It’s cute, especially when Gene smells the hot chocolate in his mug, and he approaches the barista to order his own coffee with a smile. 

“Your sandwich will be just a few minutes,” she tells him with a much more relaxed smile. “We’ll come out with it when it’s ready, if you’re…”

“I’m very happy to sit outside, ma’am,” Gene replies when he sees her prepare to ask, and they laugh together for a second as Eugene picks his coffee up.

Thanking her, he walks outside, shooting a quick glance at the guy who had been before him. He’s found himself a table, even though he’s moved the table arrangement around to press his back against the wall of the café. Eugene doesn’t think much about it, just walks past where he’s reading a book with a frown to find a seat for himself.

The place has a very cozy atmosphere, with a hedge and some flower arrangements on the tables. Curiously, there’s none on Mr. Redhead’s, but two on the table next to his, and Eugene decides to sit down at that one. Not because he thinks the flowers have feelings, but there’s still a part of him that doesn’t want them to go unappreciated.

And who knows, the man probably has very reasonable reasons to not like flowers or the outdoors; Eugene isn’t sure it’s still pollen season, but he’s a paediatric nurse, not an allergy doctor. What does he know? 

The man shoots him a glance when he sits down, but then returns to his book, even if his cheeks seem to have gotten a little pink again. 

Why is Eugene even noticing that? He’s here to have breakfast, not leer at other customers, what is wrong with him? He never does this. A part of him wants to tell the guy that, but he has enough wits about himself to know what a spectacularly bad idea that would be.

So he sits down, he ignores his table neighbour, and he pulls his phone up to try to catch up on those news he had to run out on. Because that’s much more reasonable.

It doesn’t take long for him to end up dicking around with the crossword app on his phone instead, frowning down angrily at it when it doesn’t obey and turn the words into what he thinks they should be, which is unfair. Eugene is good at crosswords. It’s not his responsibility if the crossword makers are wrong, and he shouldn’t be penalised for it. 

His sandwich arrives, as does the other man’s bagel, and Eugene finds himself having to absentmindedly wave a couple of hungry bees off of it. It doesn’t bother him; the flowers probably attracted them, and God knows the little guys need all the nourishment they can get, but he’d prefer not to accidentally bite down on one. 

And that’s why, when he gets up to go to the bathroom, he doesn’t think twice about what he says.

Eugene meant to just ask the guy next to him if he’d mind keeping Gene’s table, but then he sees one of the bees clambering around in his mop of hair, probably mistaking it for a good resting place.

“Uh, excuse me,” Eugene says, smiling down at the man politely, no idea what’s about to happen. “But there’s a bee in your hair—“

Chaos erupts before he’s even sure he gets to finish the sentence, because the man stands up from his seat fast enough to flip the entire table over, screaming so loud Eugene takes a misplaced step back and ends up crashing into his own table. 

The noise is horrible, dishes shattering and the metal of the furniture clamouring against the ground, Eugene falling down on top of his own toppled table and probably bruising his whole ass and back up.

“Fuck!” The man shouts, Eugene looking up, disoriented, from his new uncomfortable place on the ground. He’s turning around in a circle, shaking his head, ending up stumbling into a third table and falls half into the hedge surrounding the outside part of the café. “Fuck, shit, fuck! Get it off me! No! Get it off, fuck!”

He doesn’t even know what to say, watching the man slowly slide down onto the ground while running his hands back and forth through his hair desperately. Eugene pushes himself up from where he’s sprawled, wincing at the amount of broken china on the ground, and makes his way over to the guy.

“It’s gone, hey, it’s gone, you’re okay,” he says, squatting down in front of him and taking his wrists in a gentle but firm grip. He gets a wide-eyed and terrified look in return.

“Really? You promise? It feels like—“

“No, it’s gone, I promise,” Eugene tells him. “So this is why you didn’t wanna sit outside, huh?”

“Yeah. No,” the man says, still wearing that scared expression, and Eugene is taken aback by two things: First, that this boy has got to be really fucking afraid of bees, and secondly that his eyes are quite a lovely shade of green, widening like he just noticed something. “Wait, hang on, fuck—“

But whatever he’s about to say next is interrupted by the barista from earlier coming running out of the café, and, well. The following ten minutes are not a moment Eugene ever wants to relive, preferring instead to skip forward to after both of them have gotten firmly kicked out of the café premises. 

Eugene is in the mood to just run away, but Terrified Of Bees-Man is sprinting down the street after him, having gotten held back while he tipped the poor girl as much as he could. “Wait! Fuck, wait, stop!” 

_Jesus Christ,_ Gene wants to groan, because what now? This day has already taken so many weird turns, and he’s really not up for another. He should never have gotten out of bed. Everything is terrible, especially if this turns into him getting yelled at for the second time today.

“What?” He asks the man when he catches up with him. “If you’re angry at me, fuck off, I couldn’t very well know—“

“No, Jesus, or, well, yeah, that too,” the man says, his eyes still wide as he comes to a close, breathing heavy and just looking at Eugene without saying anything for a while. “God, you’re… You’re lovely. I’m sorry.”

“What?” Gene says, instinctively pulling back from him, but that’s apparently a mistake.

“I’m so sorry, I promise,” the man insists, stepping closer with a frown when Gene steps away. “I didn’t mean to stick you with— Jesus, what is it? Just cursing? I’m sorry.”

“What?” Eugene says again, and the man in front of him looks like he’s suddenly about to pass out.

“Oh fuck, are you not— It’s gonna happen again?” 

Eugene has never felt so genuinely confused in his life, and then suddenly it’s like it clicks in his head. The puzzle pieces fall into place, the fucking planets align and he understands what the hell is happening, here.

“Oh my god,” he says, and now this unknown man isn’t the only one whose knees possibly feel weak. Or, well, he’s not unknown, is he? He’s— He’s… “Are you?”

“I really hope I am,” the man whispers, looking scared and worried, but there’s something undeniably soft underneath it. “And I’m sorry, uh… What’s your name?”

“Eugene,” Eugene says weakly, and the man smiles a little at him.

“Hi. I’m Babe. Or, well, I’m Edward, but everyone calls me Babe. It’s not a joke. And I’m sorry, Eugene, for getting you stuck with… Whatever it is. I think I blacked out for a moment, but—“

“Oh my god,” Eugene says again, groaning it out as he squats down on the street, putting his hands over his face. “My whole life, and this— I cannot believe you— Jesus Christ.”

“Hey,” the man— Babe says, sounding like he’s frowning. “I’m sorry you got some curse words on you, but I have had to live in fear for ten years, okay? It hasn’t been—“

“Some curse words?” Eugene says, looking up at where Babe has wrapped his arms around himself defensively. “I fucking wish it was curse words, you have no fucking idea how much easier that would’ve made my life!”

“Well, at least I apologised for whatever it is, you haven’t said anything about sticking me with bee terror!” For a few moments they just glare at each other, before Babe makes a sniffling sound at him, looking his squatting form up and down suspiciously. “What exactly is it, anyway? You know mine, I don’t know yours.”

“You wanna know what it is?” Eugene asks him, standing up so fast his vision goes a bit blurry. Getting his jacket off, “hold this,” he unbuttons the top buttons on the button-down shirt he’s wearing.

Babe is just frowning at him as he starts to undress, pressing a hand over his mouth when he sees what the hell he’s done to Eugene. 

Starting at his neck, wrapping around him in a spiral, over one side of his collarbones to the other side of his chest, down across his ribs, is a string of letters. Or, more accurately, a very very long string of one letter.

Eugene had stayed up until four AM on his 15th birthday to slowly see the absolute monstrosity of a seemingly endless amount of capital ‘A’s curl round and round his body. Nine laps, seventy-three letters, making out a scream and a soulmate ‘word’ which Gene has never seen anything even similar to in his life.

Neither had his parents. Or his high school classmates. Or anyone he’s hooked up with for the past twelve years. 

“You think your life was made difficult?” Eugene says as he tucks his undershirt off to show Babe the full extent of the horror, “do you have any idea—“

“Oh my god, Eugene, I’m so sorry,” Babe says against his fingers, eyes tracking across the ‘AAAAAAAAAAAAA’ curling over Gene’s stomach. “I— I thought it was just gonna be—“

“At least you got to think something!” Eugene shouts at him. Maybe it’s a bit stupid to scream at your soulmate on the street with no shirt on at ten AM when you just met them, but… Twelve years, okay? This is a screaming fest Gene has had building up for twelve years. He’s earned it. “I have lived with this, no fucking clue what the hell— Are you laughing?”

The offended tone of his voice only seems to make Babe crack up more, and he’s left standing there while his soulmate cackles at his misfortune. Eugene is two seconds away from telling the guy to go fuck himself, even though he annoyingly knows that it’s an objectively funny situation.

He just has a hard time seeing it that way.

“Christ, I’m so sorry,” Babe says, walking closer to lean over Gene’s shoulder and get a look at the *AAAAAAAAAAAAA’ down his back, wrapping twice before disappearing into his trousers. “But Eugene, you have no idea… You don’t know me well, but believe me when I say, nobody who does is going to question that we’re supposed to be together.”

“Yeah? You go around screaming at people often?” Eugene huffs, definitely not thinking about how close Babe is standing to him, as if he has no concept of personal space at all. He doesn’t move back, though. 

“Nah, it’s just very… Me,” Babe says, pulling back to look Eugene in the face with a soft expression. “Hey. I really am sorry. I just… Really, really don’t like bees.”

“It’s alright,” Eugene tells him, looking down at the shirt in his hands before turning his eyes back up at Babe. “I kinda figured. You okay, by the way?”

“Yeah. The whole, uh… Soulmate thing kind overshadowed the… bee… thing.” A shiver, involuntary by the way Babe’s whole body tenses up, goes through him at the mention. Gene does feel a little bad, because, well. He’s seen it himself, the man is clearly really afraid of insects.

“Sorry I made you be afraid of bees for so long,” he mumbles, and Babe smiles at him. He does have a really nice smile, lighting up his entire face even though it’s just a small one, making his eyes sparkle.

“It’s fine, I was already scared of them.” Looking across Gene’s face, Babe continues, “and I think it might’ve been worth it anyway. You are… You really are quite…”

“Lovely?” Eugene says, and then immediately feels his face burn up. “I was just—“

Babe laughs at him, but it’s a kind sound, and Eugene feels soothed by it already. “I did say that, didn’t I? Well. It’s true.”

A woman walks past them, shooting a Look at where Eugene is standing with his shirt off in the middle of the street, and Babe grimaces at himself. “Uh, look, maybe we should—“

“Yeah,” Eugene says, pressing a hand to his face to try and… He’s not sure, push his own blush back down where it came from?

“And maybe put your shirt back on, scream boy,” Babe tells him, clearly trying very hard not to snicker. Eugene glares and pulls his undershirt back on. 

“I’m the scream boy, he says,” he mutters as he smoothes the fabric down. “Has ten years to prepare for a bee, still shouts like his ass is—“

“Hey! No mocking me for being afraid of bees,” Babe tells him sternly, but he doesn’t sound too upset. Eugene rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, and the grin he gets in return tells him Babe interpreted it as fondly as it was intended. “Eh, would you maybe… Wanna go for a coffee or something?”

Gene hadn’t expected that, for some reason, but looks up at Babe with happy surprise. Babe looks a bit nervous in return, which he also appreciates, because it mirrors what’s going on in Eugene’s stomach.

Look, he doesn’t know what to do, okay? For as much as society revolves around one day finding your Person, people mostly focus on keeping their ears tensed up for that moment they hear their Words with no thought about what’s gonna come after. Eugene hasn’t had that, just a lot of question marks and sighed-out explanations for people who had questions for him.

He’d half expected some kind of mean prank, half a terrible accident. Babe doesn’t really seem like he was involved in either, and Eugene doesn’t know what to do right now. But when he looks at Babe, giving Gene’s jacket back with a shy smile and pink cheeks under all those freckles and red hair, it feels like maybe it won’t be that difficult to figure it out.

“Sure,” he says as an answer to Babe’s question, and after a second’s hesitance, doesn’t put his button down back on. It leaves the first couple of ‘A’s visible, the ones that wrap around his neck, which Eugene is usually definitely not comfortable with. 

But Babe is looking at the letters with a smile, sucking his cheek in like he’s trying to hide it, and Gene feels like maybe he can forego his own usual annoyance at what he’s gotten stuck with for the sake of… Well, the boy who stuck him with it.

He should really stop talking about it like that, he guesses, falling into step next to Babe with that sun shining down at them. “Maybe get a sandwich or something, too,” he tells his soulmate (and Jesus, that’s a trip to think about). “Considering I didn’t really get to eat much of my last one before… Well.”

Babe laughs, loud and happy, and Gene’s chest feels warm. “Alright, scream boy, second breakfast it is.”

At the end of it, Eugene doesn’t feel bad his day took another weird turn. Walking side by side with Babe, wondering if it’s too early to be considering if he could brush their hands together where they swing. Whether it is or not, he does consider it, and then feels his heart soar when Babe pushes his own hand out a little and it makes contact with Gene’s fingers.

He quickly forgets about the letters visible above the neckline of his t-shirt.

“Where does it end?” Babe asks him one night a couple of weeks later. They’re watching a movie on Eugene’s sofa, after a slow night spent together where Babe had tried and failed to understand how cajun spices work. Now, he’s leaned back against the armrest, Gene on his chest, and he’s been running a finger over the line going across one of Eugene’s collarbones.

He’s been trying not to let the contact drive him insane. And he’s succeeded, but he’s definitely too distracted to be able to say what the fuck is going on in this movie. Babe’s hands are just soft, okay? Soft and gentle, and have been running distractingly over Gene’s chest for the better part of an hour. 

Nothing more than that, and most of it has been tracing the general outline of the letters visible under Eugene’s thin white shirt in a way that’s just… It’s a bit possessive, isn’t it? In the best way, don’t get him wrong; this is Babe letting Gene know he’s taken, that they found each other, Eugene has a second half and he’s here and it’s written on their skin that they belong together.

Gene always thought it was annoying when people did it in the movies, but then again, he always felt like his tattoo was a joke and that there was no way anyone would be able to… Well. Feel that way about it.

But Babe isn’t like that. Quite the opposite, he seems like he can’t get enough of it; He likes running his eyes over the lines, or preferably his fingers when the position allows. Ever since they started kissing each other hello and goodbye — which was immediately — Eugene has gotten two kisses: One to his lips and one to the ‘A’ an inch or so underneath his jaw. 

He’s also not so delusional he’ll try to tell himself that he didn’t wear this thin white shirt, that he knows the black letters show through, because Babe likes to see them. It’s not quite gotten to the point where he’s really comfortable going outside in anything less concealing than a goddamn polo shirt, but when it’s just the two of them Eugene finds himself being more and more okay with Babe seeing it.

Leading up to this moment, with Babe pressing a kiss into Eugene’s temple and moving his fingers to the line going across his chest next, asking “Gene? Where does it end?”

“It goes all the way down,” Eugene mumbles, taking Babe’s free hand in his and closing his eyes. “Stops at my ankle. Why?”

“Oh,” Babe says quietly, his breath ghosting over Gene’s ear in a way that makes him shiver. “So— So there’s still quite a bit of it I haven’t seen yet?”

Oh, indeed, because now Eugene’s whole chest is starting to feel warm. “Yeah, Babe.”

“Huh. I didn’t know that.” Another kiss is pressed to Gene’s temple, his hand sprawling out over Eugene’s stomach, like he’s preparing to move it further down, but it stays still. 

“You can see it, if you want?” He doesn’t know why he offers, but he does anyway, and when he turns his head to look up at Babe, Babe’s eyes are a little dark and his face is very soft. 

“Would you want that?” Babe asks him, leaning down to press a kiss to Gene’s mouth. Eugene reaches up with his free hand, the one not holding Babe’s, and twines his fingers into Babe’s soft hair. Babe is mumbling against his lips when he continues, “I’d love to, but only if you want. It’s your skin, Gene.”

“I want to,” Eugene says quietly, pulling Babe down by the neck to get another kiss. This one lingers for a while longer, slowly turning from a small peck to something deeper, more intentional.

Eugene is the one who takes the initiative to move. Mumbling, “c’mon, let’s… Bed,” he untangles himself from Babe’s arms and crawls more than walks out of the sofa. Not that Babe is far behind, taking his hand and pulling him in for kisses as they attempt to walk the very short distance to Eugene’s bedroom.

It’s hard to say why he’s so nervous, even though there are a lot of reasons to be — Eugene hasn’t exactly had the easiest time with this, so to speak, earlier. Most of it is because of his own inhibitions, more than anything, and he’s aware of that; but there is also something to be said about being covered in a written-down scream, wrapping around his body like a snake hoping to have him for dinner.

And he trusts Babe, of course he does, but Gene also believes that if Babe doesn’t react well to this, he might never recover. One part of him doesn’t even understand how Babe can be so patient with all of this in the first place. Taking romantic lessons from popular media is probably not the smartest move, he knows, but there’s also a feeling of… This isn’t how you’re supposed to do it, is it?

What people are supposed to do when they meet their soulmate is to drag them home and fall in deep, immediate and passionate love, not able to take your hands off each other. The stars decided you’re good for each other, there should be no inhibitions, you should just trust that bond right away.

But that’s not how they’ve done it, Gene is painfully aware, as he pulls Babe on top of him on the bed. It’s been weeks, and this is the first time Babe has kissed his neck with any kind of expectation to go further, instead of just… Eugene isn’t sure what. He’s not sure exactly what Babe gets out of the mark kissing he’s been doing so far, but he hopes Babe will continue to be kind about it.

Babe’s mouth is on his neck, either way, and Eugene feels like his heart is going to pound out of his chest. There are hands on his waist, very slowly pushing his shirt up.

“Can I?” Babe asks him, pulling on the fabric a little bit, and Eugene nods, sitting up to help Babe pull it off. It’s not the first time he’s been shirtless in front of the man, but this time feels radically different to standing on the street annoyed at his soulmate for sticking him with what’s frankly a horrible soulmate mark.

It feels like the sentiment (the _‘it feels different’_ one, not the… _‘Eugene has a horrible soulmate mark’_ one) is shared, Babe breathing out a small _“oh”_ when he drags his eyes down Eugene’s body. Gene lies back down, trying to ignore his cheeks burning, letting Babe take his time.

His gaze feels hot on Gene’s skin, first dragging across the black lines covering him and then starting to trace other lines. His collarbones, the shape of his ribs, the slight curve of his waist; Babe looks at him so intensely it’s like he’s looking through him, and then he flicks his eyes back up to Eugene’s.

They’re a little dark, but soft, and full of something Gene refuses to try and put a word on. 

(Maybe it’s because the word, should he have tried, might have been something like ‘adoration,’ and that’s just ridiculous. Least of all because Eugene is really not something to adore, even including the whole soulmate business.)

“You’re so…” Babe says softly, leaning down to give him a gentle kiss, mumbling into it, his lips dragging against Eugene’s. “Gorgeous. Wonderful. Thank you.”

“For what?” Gene asks quietly, closing his eyes as Babe presses a kiss to his jaw, and then to the familiar spot where the first (or last, he guesses, depending on how you look at it) ‘A’ stands out against his skin.

“For being here,” Babe mumbles, pressing another soft kiss to his neck, and then another, and then another. He’s kissing his way down the line, and Eugene feels like his head is swimming a little bit. “For… For being mine, Genie.”

“I didn’t…” He’s blinking as he’s trying to gather his thoughts enough to formulate a sentence. Babe, meanwhile, has reached the end of the ‘A’s he can reach on Eugene’s neck without turning him over, and is moving his head to where they wrap back around on his shoulder and across his collarbone. “It’s not me you should be thanking, Babe.”

“But I am,” Babe insists, pressing his lips over the bumps of Eugene’s body, making a detour to kiss the hollow of Gene’s throat even though there are no letters there. “I also thank the universe when I wake up for thinking I belong with you, but you’re the one who’s lovely, Gene. I’d still want to be with you regardless, but I’m so lucky, I don’t think you realise.”

“Shouldn’t be with someone who isn’t nice.” Eugene is trying to frown, but is only half sure that it’s working, especially when he feels Babe smile against his skin and distract him.

“And I’m not, am I?” He says, grinning as he moves across Eugene’s chest, pushing his arm up gently to be able to kiss across Gene’s ribs. “I’m with the nicest damn boy in the world.”

He once again reaches the end of what he can reach, and is crawling down Gene’s body now, getting started on where the next line first shows below his waist. From left to right, he works his way across Eugene’s stomach. 

The black letters go across the bottom of his abdomen, something Eugene is acutely aware of, and by the way Babe’s kisses are getting lighter he’s not a stranger to what this feels like either. Heat is starting to pool in the bottom of Gene’s stomach, right beneath where Babe’s mouth is, and as it moves to the soft skin of his pelvis, Eugene closes his eyes and just breathes for a second.

When Babe hits the spot where Gene’s trousers stop him from continuing and starts to pull away, Eugene almost groans. But then Babe pushes on his hip with a “turn over?” and it feels a little better.

Eugene does, of course, rolling over and bundling his arms up under the pillow beneath his head. Babe is crawling back up his body, the warmth of him radiating into Gene’s back, and when a breath ghosts over his neck, Gene closes his eyes again. 

Babe’s mouth is still soft, but his kisses are more open, giving the slightest hint of the inside of his lips as he moves his way around the back of Eugene’s neck. Gene, meanwhile, burrows his face deeper into the pillow and tries not to think too much.

“It’s okay,” Babe tells him, ghosting his lips over the back of Eugene’s ear, “I got you.”

What is a man to do but believe him? He gives in a little. As Babe finishes the first line by nuzzling into Gene’s neck for a moment, Eugene relaxes into the mattress and just focuses on the feelings he’s getting.

As Babe moves down his back, dragging his nose down the line of his spine before getting started on the row of letters going straight across his back, Gene stops thinking about anything else. About propriety, about doing the right and expected thing, about anything other than Babe Heffron, his mouth, and the weight and warmth of his body. It’s all gone, replaced by the feeling of Babe over him.

When two thumbs rub over his hips at the spot where the hem of his jeans start, Eugene barely waits for Babe to ask “Gene? Is this okay?” before he tilts his hips up and lets him slide the garment off. 

Babe works his trousers down carefully, letting Eugene keep his underwear on, and his breath hitches before he even has them all the way off. The letters continue down and around Gene’s right leg, wrapping around him again and again until it finally peters out at his ankle.

There’s a reason he doesn’t wear shorts in the summer, although honestly that might change from now on. Babe, after having collected himself from the shock of what Eugene’s skin looks like, pulls his socks off and asks him quietly to roll over again.

A part of Eugene would prefer not to, because he’s definitely got a semi going for him and Babe hasn’t done anything but kiss his back and give him compliments, but in the end he decides to trust the man with this, too. Babe takes a deep breath when Gene turns around, flicks his eyes up for a moment, but doesn’t say a word before going back to pressing kisses to the lines going down his body.

It’s more intimate than anything Eugene has ever done, and he’s done far filthier things than this in his life, none of which can compare to the sensation of Babe Heffron kissing down his soulmate mark — Babe’s, really, it belongs to him. Babe is kissing down his own soulmate mark, wrapped around Eugene’s body from top to bottom, so tenderly it makes Eugene’s cheeks burn.

Clearly he’s seen the effect it’s having on Gene, but it doesn’t seem like the thought of acting on it has struck his head. After all, he was allowed to see Eugene’s full mark, not anything else, and it seems like Babe is going to stick to what he got explicit permission to do.

While not unappreciated, there’s a part of Eugene that wishes Babe would just… Do something, something else, something more. His stomach is starting to ache, and he’s frustrated when Babe moves further and further down his leg. The jolts of excitement that had traveled through him at feeling Babe’s mouth on his thigh, brushing up against sensitive skin, disappear as he gets further down.

Not that it isn’t sweet, Babe’s lips moving gently over him, his hands coming up behind his leg to bend it at the knee and press kisses to Gene’s kneecap and shin; it’s still making Eugene’s heart ache a little. But at this point he thinks he’d prefer to have that mouth… Other places.

Letting out a shaky breath when Babe finishes with one last kiss to his ankle and puts his knees back down, Eugene blinks down at Babe, who’s coming back up with a small smile.

“Hi there,” he says before kissing him, grinning when Eugene wraps his arms around Babe’s neck, gripping the back of his head. “You doing okay?”

“Stop that,” Eugene grumbles, not in the mood for teasing. Babe just laughs at him, but it’s a kind sound, bumping their noses together before kissing him again.

“Hey, in order to get the last bit,” Babe tells him quietly, hooking one of his pinky fingers in the lining of Eugene’s boxers, “I’d need to take these off. Do you… Can I do that?”

Taking a deep breath and swallowing, Gene nods up at him. Babe still has all his clothes on, but it hasn’t bothered him so far and to be honest, it kinda still doesn’t. Eugene likes the feeling of Babe pressing himself down fully clothed, the fabric of his jeans and shirt pressing against Gene’s naked skin, and it yet seeming like Babe is the one paying service to him instead of the other way around.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Babe says quietly, kissing Eugene again, holding himself up on one arm and stroking Gene’s cheek with the thumb of his free hand. “You’re my… We’re soulmates, you know? We’re supposed to be perfect for each other, not rush through anything because it’s what we’re supposed to do.”

“I know,” Gene says quietly, which he does, but it still feels good to have Babe say it. Just to know he’s not the only one thinking about it, Gene not the one holding back, stopping Babe from getting… No, not going down that road, Eugene is not going to ruin this by putting his own fears into Babe’s words and interpreting them as truth. He kisses Babe instead, again. “Thank you, but I want to, if you do. I trust you. I want this.”

“Yeah?” Babe says, giving a careful little smile that blossoms into something much larger when Gene shyly returns it. “If you change your mind—“

“I’ll let you know, and we stop,” Eugene promises, heart pounding, feeling excited and nervous in the best way. “Same goes for you, okay?”

“Promise.” Giving Gene a hard, but sweet, kiss, Babe pulls back a little and taps on Eugene’s shoulder. “Roll over again for me, let me finish?”

When Eugene obliges, there’s a feeling of finality to it — as if he has now committed and it’s too late to pull back. Not that he’d want to, Eugene isn’t lying when he says he wants this. No, it’s something more positive than that; they’ve made the decision together, and now it’s going to happen, and Gene is—

He’s having his underwear pulled off, that’s what’s happening. Babe’s hands are gentle, and the only shiver Gene gives is prompted by the feeling of the sheets against his dick. He’s not quite as hard as he was before, but still sensitive enough, and the warmth is happy to pool back into his stomach when the first touch of Babe’s lips to the back of his ankle happens. 

It’s easy to fall back into it, burrowing his head in the pillow he’s bunched up under him and focusing on Babe’s mouth on him. Part of it is because of course, this time around Babe is kissing him from the bottom up, and Gene knows exactly where that will leave him. 

The way Babe had taken a deep breath when he pulled Eugene’s underwear off had betrayed it; and of course he’d noticed, there was no way not to.

After wrapping around his hip, before it started twisting itself round Gene’s leg, the long string of letters went over his ass; across his left cheek, and down over the soft skin at the top of his right thigh. 

To say that getting laid had been an adventure in Eugene’s life was a bit of an understatement. 

But Babe says nothing, which is probably for the best, just maintaining his painfully slow pace of kissing every single ‘A’ leading up Eugene’s calf. When Babe comes to the line going across the lower part of his thigh, Gene starts feeling like he’s losing his mind again.

All he wants is to just groan at Babe to stop and— Well, fuck, just do something other than what he’s doing right now, working from the outside of his knee over to the soft, sensitive skin on the inside of his thigh. But he doesn’t, instead just lets out a shivering breath into his pillow, turning into something decidedly more moan-y when a warm tongue ghosts over his skin in response.

“So beautiful,” Babe mumbles, lifting his head up to the next line, the one on the upper part of Gene’s thigh, and Eugene is going to lose his mind. “I hope you’ve gotten to know how wonderful you are before, Gene, that someone has taken the time and effort to show you just how fucking gorgeous you are.”

His kisses are getting sloppy, probably leaving wet splotches on Gene’s skin; there’s tongue, a hint of teeth, and it’s doing nothing to help Eugene’s sanity. Especially not when he gets closer and closer to the cleft in Gene’s ass, passing right over it, and Gene could whimper with how badly he wants Babe to just press into—

But he doesn’t, instead staying faithful to his trajectory, biting into the skin of Gene’s ass as he moves over the final couple of ‘A’s. It’s soft at first, and then harder when Eugene’s reactions become louder, and a part of Eugene is sure he’s going to have bruises tomorrow.

He really, really doesn’t mind.

“Seen it all now,” Babe eventually says, pressing a few last kisses into Gene’s other thigh. “Thank you. I could stop now, if you want me to, but if you don’t there are some other places I’d like to kiss first.”

His words are accompanied by one of his thumbs lightly dragging over the cleft in Eugene’s ass, up and down without putting any real pressure in, any real friction. Gene groans louder than he’d like to admit, but it’s probably worth it, because it makes Babe laugh and press his thumb in a little deeper.

“Gene, do you have—“

“Bedside drawer,” Eugene groans, not even letting Babe finish what he’s saying, because if his lube retrieval break takes a second longer than it has to, Gene is going to lose his mind. Which Babe thankfully seems to understand, because he climbs over there without saying another word or wasting any time.

While he’s at it, he pulls his shirt off too, and Eugene blinks where he’s laying. Babe doesn’t make a huge fuss about undressing, and it’s probably just another step in efficiency, but a part of Gene feels like he suddenly wants them to slow down again. 

It’s difficult to explain why he feels weird about Babe pulling his shirt off and unbuckling his belt when he himself is naked and exposed on the mattress, but for some reason Eugene’s heart is now picking up speed and his breathing feels a little uneven. 

“Hey, Gene? You okay?” Babe’s voice pulls him out of it, and Eugene blinks again, looking at Babe where he’s kneeling on the mattress bent over Gene with a slightly worried expression. “How you feeling?”

“Yeah,” Eugene whispers, and then scrounges his nose at himself. “I mean— I’m good, just a little…”

Babe’s expression softens down at him, and he kisses Gene’s temple gently. “It’s a lot, all of this, isn’t it? Not just sex, that too, but…”

“But all of this,” Gene says quietly, closing his eyes as Babe’s breath ghosts over his face. “Yeah. It’s a lot. It’s good, but it’s… It’s a lot.”

“Gene, we can—“

“No,” Eugene says, pushing himself up from the mattress before Babe can suggest calling this off again. “If you don’t, we don’t, but I wanna do this, I promise. Can I suck you off first?”

Babe just blinks at him for a second, keeping his eyes locked at Eugene’s face as Gene scoots over to sit on the side of the bed. “Yeah,” he eventually says, moving so he’s sitting next to him. “Yeah, of course, yeah. What do you want me to…”

“I liked feeling like you were in control,” Gene mumbles, sliding to the floor slowly and getting on his knees between Babe’s legs. “Even if you weren’t… And we’re on the same… Can you just, please, take charge? Like that?”

Looking at him for a long moment, Eugene trying very hard to not flicker his eyes away for a second, Babe eventually leans down to kiss him before turning his upper body away. 

“Here,” he says before Gene has the chance to worry, grabbing one of the large pillows Gene has because he likes curling up around them when he sleeps, “on this. Don’t want you to get hurt, now, do I?”

Eugene obligingly kneels on the pillow, taking a deep breath as Babe runs his fingers through his hair.

“You wanna suck my dick, Genie? That what you wanna do?” He asks quietly, tilting Eugene’s face up to him. Nodding in response, Gene puts his hands up on Babe’s knees, slowly pushing them up his thighs. “Go ahead. I’d love you to.”

Babe’s licking his lips as his pants get unbuckled with slightly trembling hands. Eugene tries not to think too hard on the pair of eyes that are on him, focusing instead on his own breathing and the motions of unzipping his trousers, hooking his fingers into the lining and shimmying them down Babe’s hips.

With help from Babe, he gets them down his thighs and off his legs, Eugene pulling his socks off and leaving the clothing in a little pile on the floor. Ignoring the parts of his brain that are making butterflies the size of Everest crowd impossibly in his stomach, Gene leans forward to where the bulge in Babe’s underwear is standing out.

He’s hard, which is a bit soothing, because god knows Eugene is. Despite the nervous energy flooding him, he feels excited and turned on; he’s never been with someone who just seems to want him for… Well, for being him, which is both obvious and strange giving the circumstances for them even being together.

The universe made this match, after all, not the two of them. At some point, because of something they did or not, it was decided that Babe Heffron and Eugene Roe were going to be together, and they’re just playing with that hand that was dealt them.

But the first time Gene sticks his tongue out to lick a small, warm stripe over Babe’s cock through the cotton of his boxer shorts, he’s not thinking about that. What he is thinking about is the way Babe breathes out shakily, the way one of his hands curls into the side of the bed and the other goes to the back of Eugene’s head, fingers tangling in black hair.

Eugene knows how to do this. The realisation comes to him and he relaxes into himself, suddenly, because he really does know how to do this. There’s nothing to worry about, and besides Babe seems to be happy with whatever he’s getting right now.

Placing one of his hands on Babe’s dick, squeezing him gently, Gene moves his lips to mouth over the head of his cock. He’s leaving damp stains on the fabric, but Babe doesn’t seem to mind given the way his stomach is trembling in time with his breathing. 

When he takes a hold on the boxers, Babe helps him get them down and off, and suddenly they’re both naked. It doesn’t feel as dramatic anymore, just two people in bed together, Babe with a collection of words above his heart and Eugene with a long string of letters wrapping around his whole body. 

He also remembers what Babe said the first time he saw it — _nobody who knows me is going to question whether we belong together_ — and the more he gets to know him, the more Gene agrees with that sentiment. Babe is loud and forward, a bit of a disaster sometimes but still so capable in his own right. Eugene prefers to be on the side, but hates being alone, wants to be involved but not centre attention. He used to hate his soulmate mark for that reason, too big and garish and attention-drawing, but now he thinks Babe maybe gave him something that’s just… That’s just right.

“Fuck, Gene,” Babe breathes out when Eugene goes back down to lick a stripe over his cock, full now of certainty that this is exactly how things are supposed to be, the hesitancy washed away by this new conviction.

Babe feels good on his tongue, hot and heavy and hard. Wrapping a hand around him, Gene takes the head into his mouth, happily taking in every groan and sigh that Babe makes when he swirls his tongue around and sucks gently, hollowing his cheeks out as he takes more of it in.

The hand on the back of his head is the perfect guide, Babe neither really pushing or pulling, but instead just solidifying the pace Gene himself has set. It’s something he can close his eyes and relax into. The hand on the shaft of Babe’s cock, squeezing where his mouth can’t reach, his other one on the inside of Babe’s thigh, his tongue licking where it can in between deep bobs of his head that pushes Babe’s dick to the back of his throat.

He seems to like when Gene keeps just the tip in his mouth, jerking him off with a slow, tight hand while teasing the head with his tongue. Eventually Eugene pulls his mouth off, swallows and takes a few deep breaths just to collect himself, and the hand in his hair goes to his cheek for a moment.

“Hey there,” Babe says quietly, groaning when Gene sticks his tongue out and drags it over the underside of his dick in response. “Look at me?”

He couldn’t say no if he wanted to. Eugene pulls his gaze up, blinking through slightly wet lashes. Babe looks a bit unraveled, but still himself, still in control, his cheeks red and mouth a bit swollen, breathing heavy but eyes soft.

One of his thumbs drags over Eugene’s bottom lip, making him open his mouth again on reflex, but Babe seems happy to just touch him like that. “You’re so perfect,” he mumbles, and Gene feels himself blush deeper, averting his eyes. The soft touch turns to a hard grip on his chin, Babe tilting his jaw up. “No. Look at me, Genie.”

It takes a second, but he does, gaze flickering up to Babe’s face and staying there despite the restless energy in Eugene’s chest. Babe licks his lips, holds his gaze, says, “you’re so fucking pretty,” and moves both his hands to hold Gene’s face. “You’re wonderful, Eugene. Never look away from me when I tell you how I feel about you, okay?” Gene nods, and Babe smiles at him. “Good. You can go back down now, if you want.”

Eugene does want to, getting his mouth back on Babe’s cock almost desperately, and it feels like Babe is with him on this new energy. The hand on Gene’s head is firmer this time, fingers grasping his hair harder, almost tugging on the strands.

It’s that perfect level of sting, just hard enough to make his scalp ache a little bit, and Eugene is so happy to let Babe continue with it. They set the pace together, faster and sloppier, but Babe is the one who enforces it. Eugene’s own dick is so hard it almost hurts, but he’s more than happy to ignore it, wanting to focus on Babe and making him feel good; He wants to feel him let go, wants to know it was him who made Babe feel like that, wants to communicate his own emotions to Babe in this moment.

As he keeps bobbing his head up and down, helped by the hold on his hair, it doesn’t take long for Babe to give him the warning. It’s in the middle of a string of praise that spills out of him, making Eugene’s ears burn.

“You feel so fucking good, Gene, christ,” Babe groans, leaning back on the hand not gripping Eugene’s hair, and when Gene looks up he has his eyes locked on him. “Fuck, you’re so… Incredible, I can’t believe you’re mine, I want you so bad, wanna keep you forever— I’m close, sweetheart, wonderful you, do you want…”

Eugene answers him by pressing down, pushing Babe’s cock deeper into his mouth. He doesn’t want to try and risk failing a deepthroat, but Babe doesn’t seem to mind, just moaning out some more curses and biting down on his bottom lip as he starts falling off the edge.

He comes against the back of Gene’s throat, Eugene pulling back until the head is the only thing left in his mouth, his hand doing most of the work as Babe coats his tongue in wave after wave of his orgasm. Gene lets him ride it out fully before pulling back, swallowing with a finality that makes Babe groan and fall back onto the bed.

For a moment he just lies there, his chest moving as he tries to catch his breath, before he puts a hand out and bends his neck to look down at Eugene. “C’mere,” he mumbles, “here, you fucking gorgeous thing.”

Babe doesn’t have to ask him twice. Eugene is off his kneeling pillow and crawling over Babe so fast the desperation must be radiating off of him, but Babe doesn’t seem to mind, just wraps his arms around him and pulls him into a deep kiss the moment he’s close enough.

“You wanna come now? Yeah? On my fingers, maybe?” He asks, breathes it into the kiss, and Eugene can only make a vague moaning ‘yes’ in response. Babe pushes on his shoulder gently to get him to roll over on his back. “Scoot up, then, back against the pillows. C’mon, be a good boy, let me take care of you.”

Gene can’t remember the last time he was this willing during sex, but he’s very happy Babe is the one who he’s doing this with. Laying where Babe wants him, sinking into his small mountain of pillows (a luxury he’s always afforded himself, because he hates sleeping in an empty bed), he closes his eyes again and doesn’t think about how he must look as Babe pushes his legs up and apart.

He expects to hear the click of a lube bottle, but it doesn’t come, even as Babe is pressing on his thighs to all but bend him in half. Eugene is about to open his eyes to see what he’s doing, but then a breath on his ass is the only warning he gets before Babe’s tongue laps over his hole.

Of all the things he expected, that hadn’t been one of them, Babe shamelessly kissing him there, and Gene thinks he’s going to lose his mind. It’s not that he’s ever been that horribly into rimjobs, just that most guys weren’t willing to give them, and especially not this enthusiastically.

But of course Babe would be the exception, and he is; Eugene moans like he’s dying when Babe’s tongue presses against the rim of muscle with intent. He almost laments that he’s not open enough for it to just slide right into him, suddenly wants that, to get to clench down on him.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Babe mumbles at him like he can read his mind, pressing a sloppy kiss to Gene’s hole before dragging his tongue flat over it. “We’ll get you open and full, I promise, just relax. Trust me.”

Trust him is the thing Eugene feels like he’s doing more than anything right now — so much that his head is spinning from it, so much he wants anything Babe can give him, anything he wants to give him. His dick is so hard it’s aching in time with his heartbeat, but if Babe wants to wait with touching him there, it’s okay, he’ll hold out. 

Eugene presses one of his hands against his mouth, curls the other into the sheets with a white-knuckled grip and moans against his trembling fingers. That seems to be what finally does it, Babe pulling his mouth away. He tuts when it makes Gene groan at him, reaching for the bottle they’d kind of discarded to the side earlier.

“You’ll get what you need, be patient,” Babe tells him, but then immediately makes his voice go softer. “I’m gonna take care of you, Eugene, always. You never have to worry, okay? I’m gonna make sure you’re always happy and good and satisfied. Because you’re mine, and I take care of the things that are important, always. Okay?”

Opening his eyes to look at Babe when he nods, he’s so distracted by the feelings in his chest and on Babe’s face that he doesn’t register what his hands are doing until there’s a finger slowly pressing into him. 

“Fuck,” Eugene gasps, making Babe laugh as he leans down to kiss over the letters running from Gene’s knee to his groin.

“Not tonight,” he says, nipping at Gene’s thigh. He pauses curiously when it makes Eugene groan around his bottom lip, and then does it again, harder. “You never cease to amaze me, Genie,” he laughs after Gene whimpers under him. “Fuck, how the fuck do I deserve you, you magic man.”

The words could be self depreciating, but they sound more awe filled, incredulous, borderline grateful. Eugene isn’t really sure how to handle it, so he just gives another moan. Babe is now biting his way down his thigh instead, and the pain is making Gene’s head spin. 

They’re going over the lines that cosmos, or God, or whoever the fuck, put on him, like a second claim. Like Babe isn’t happy with already having one mark on him, and wants to put more there, cover Eugene’s skin in blue and purple as much as he’s already covered in deep black. 

And Gene is going to let him, happily, because nothing has ever really mattered more to him than knowing he’s Babe’s in this moment. Babe adds another finger to where he’s slowly fucking Gene’s ass, stretching him, at the same time as he finally, finally gets his tongue onto his hard cock.

It doesn’t mean that the teasing is done, of course. All Gene gets for a good while are small little kitten licks, up and down and around his shaft, Babe barely grazing the head until Eugene is ready to beg him for it.

At that point it’s like Babe shifts entirely — he wraps his wet lips around Gene’s cock at the same time as he curls the fingers inside him, and it’s so much sensation at once after so much teasing that Eugene arches his back off the bed from it. 

“There you go,” Babe hums happily against the skin of Gene's cockhead, wrapping his free hand around the base and stroking him slowly. “There’s a good boy, c’mon, let go.”

Eugene isn’t sure what Babe is on about, because he doesn’t think he’s ever let go this much in his life. Babe keeps rubbing on his prostate with two fingers, going back down on his dick — and he apparently is into deepthroating, holy fuck, because Eugene is being pressed past the back of Babe’s mouth like it’s nothing.

Normally Eugene tries to be conscious and careful of moving too much when he gets his dick sucked, lest he accidentally choke someone when he thrusts into their mouth, but all that’s out of the window now. Rolling his hips as well as he can, he tries desperately to join the pace Babe sets, one hand fisting in bright red hair on the back of Babe’s head and the other gripping onto the headboard in an attempt to get more purchase with which to keep moving.

Babe takes it all well, doesn’t falter in his movements, just moves one of Gene’s legs to hook over his shoulder, letting him press his heel into Babe’s back.

“Fuck— God, Babe, please, I’m— I’m so—“ Eugene is struggling to get words out, feeling like he’s a wet puddle more than he’s a person, but Babe seems to understand him anyway. 

“You ready to come for me, Genie?” He pulls off to ask, voice hoarse and muffled by the way he still has his lips on the head of Eugene’s cock. Gene just nods in response, too on edge to say anything else, too desperate for more of… Anything, really, of Babe’s mouth or his hands or even just his words, at this point. “Good, I want you to, want you to show me how perfect you can be.”

He goes back down, but Eugene is painfully aware that his eyes are still upturned. Feeling his cheeks burn, knowing Babe is watching every moment of it, Eugene whimpers and rolls his hips against that mouth. 

It can’t distract from how overwhelmed with pleasure he is, though, and it’s not many seconds before Eugene feels a familiar coiling behind his abdomen, tightening and tightening as Gene’s movements get more desperate. And then it snaps, and his orgasm floods over him, between Babe’s tongue pressing into the underside of his cock and the fingers curling into his prostate. 

Eugene thinks he’s making noise, is pretty sure that in between his panted-out breaths he’s moaning, but he doesn’t really hear. His senses are otherwise occupied; with the quivering of his thighs, the arching of his back, Babe’s soft hair under his hand, the way his cock is throbbing and his ass clenching on Babe’s fingers.

It feels like it lasts for an eternity, and it might as well, because Babe seems to be trying his hardest to pull every last second of it out of him. It’s not until Eugene whimpers, a sound he actually does hear, that Babe eases up and takes his mouth away. It’s another minute before he pulls his fingers out, which Gene appreciates, being allowed to continue clenching through his aftershocks. 

“Holy shit,” he says eventually, once Babe has laid down next to him and kissed his neck, and the only thing Eugene can think is that his mouth is a little dry. “Fuck, Babe.”

Babe laughs into his skin, kisses his jaw, and then up his cheek until he can reach to capture Eugene’s mouth with his own. “I know. Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me one day, Genie.” Babe is about to respond, but then Babe continues, “warn a guy before you start busting out the French, okay? If I hadn’t already busted a nut it would’ve put a very embarrassing end to things.”

“I spoke French?” Eugene says, a little confused, and Babe makes a ‘Mhm’ noise back at him. Well. He probably had, then. “Sorry. I didn’t think…”

“No, don’t apologise,” Babe tells him, leaning more of his weight on top of Eugene and pressing more kisses to his face. “It was great, I loved it, in fact I’m getting it tattooed on my body. _‘Mon dieu.’”_ His pronunciation is horrible, but that’s not why Eugene is laughing.

“You’re gonna get ‘oh my god’ in French tattooed on you?” He says, grinning. “I’ve heard of people getting anniversary tattoos, but that’s a new one.”

The response he gets is a deadpan look from Babe, his face slack and his eyebrows raised. “Eugene, look at me and tell me it’s weirder than what we already have.”

He has a point, and Gene can’t help but keep laughing even as he pulls Babe down into another kiss. Babe’s weight on top of him feels good, warm and steady and comforting, in a way Eugene hasn’t really experienced before. Maybe it’s because it feels like Babe isn’t just… Laying on him, but like it’s something softer, as if it’s somehow a part of the sex. Or at least the afterglow.

“I’m kinda sad you didn’t get to fuck me,” Eugene mumbles into the kiss, and Babe somehow manages to laugh and groan at the same time. “What? You got a good dick, it would’ve felt amazing stretching my—“

“Eugene,” Babe laments into his neck with another groan, and Eugene really doesn’t understand what the issue is. “I’m fucking gone over you, everything you say just— Don’t say shit like that when I’m not in a place I can actually follow up on it, okay?”

Shrugging, Eugene takes a deep breath, thoroughly enjoying how fucked-out he feels. Despite no traditional fucking actually having occurred. “I’m just saying. Next time I want you in me, all of you, is all.”

Babe sighs, pressing another kiss to Gene’s chest before rolling them over. “All the soulmates in the world, and I ended up with one that’s…”

“What?” Eugene asks, and then looks up when Babe doesn’t answer. “Hey? What’s wrong?” 

But Babe isn’t looking back at him, he’s looking down at them. Or Gene thinks so, until one of Babe’s hands comes up over Eugene’s, and he realises what he was doing.

“No, leave it,” Babe mumbles when Gene goes to pull his hand away from where he’d been tracing the outlines of words on the skin above Babe’s heart. Eugene hadn’t been thinking, they were suddenly just there, and he was struck with the thought of how happy he was that they were, that Babe was his, that they were meant to be together.

“I didn’t mean to…” Eugene tries, but Babe interrupts him.

“No. I love it. You’ve just… You’ve never touched them before.” 

And oh. Hasn’t he? That feels odd, but then again, thinking back on these past few weeks… He hasn’t, has he? 

Fuck, Eugene has only seen the little words twice before — once on their first breakfast date, when he’d asked Babe if he could, and then again after Babe had taken a shower after they'd gotten caught in the rain and came out of his bathroom with no shirt on.

It’s not like Gene’s tattoo, which is impossible to miss, but more subdued. Quiet. Hidden away. God, Eugene can easily fit the whole sentence under his hand if he lays it out flat, which is such a difference from the one he has on his own skin that it’s almost funny.

It’s a bit weird that he’s never touched Babe’s words before, he hadn’t thought about it, but the emotion in Babe’s voice makes him think again about it. Because of course, how could he have been so blind? They’re imprinted on each other’s bodies, in so many ways, and Babe has been so clearly signalling how he’s felt about Eugene’s mark the whole time.

The touching, the kissing, the wanting to be able to see it, of course it matters to Babe to have these words out there, to have them touched and loved and… Well, maybe not said out loud. Eugene can think of a couple scenarios where he’d be fine with Babe screaming, but they’re not that many, and he’s grasped the full meaning of Babe’s fear for bees in the weeks they’ve been dating.

They really should do the anniversary word tattoo. Eugene suddenly realises how bad he wants to have words to tell Babe, that’re from him, written on him.

But that doesn’t mean Gene should just ignore the words they currently have. There are many other things one can do to show devotion than say something, as Babe so patiently and sweetly has demonstrated to him tonight. 

So Eugene gently lifts Babe’s and his hands off Babe’s chest, but he leans over and presses his lips to the skin where the words are. It’s soft, warm, Gene almost sure he can feel Babe’s heart beating inside his chest, his breath shuddering a little as he breathes under Eugene.

“I’m very glad the universe decided to put us together, Babe,” he whispers, presses another kiss to the black words on Babe’s pale skin. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. I wouldn’t have known what I’d missed out on, and I’m not sure I could’ve survived that.”

“Genie,” Babe whispers, his voice thick, but Eugene stubbornly crawls further over him to finish his work with a few more soft kisses. 

“I think I love you, Babe,” he says when he’s done, pulling his head up and looking Babe in the eyes. There’s a lot there, tears and nervousness and something so vulnerable Eugene can almost feel the weight of this moment in the air. “I don’t wanna be without you again, and not just because the universe said so. I feel safe with you. I feel happy.”

Babe opens his mouth, swallows, doesn’t seem to get words out quite yet. His eyes dart down to Eugene’s mouth and Gene obliges the silent question immediately, covering Babe’s lips with his own, letting himself get pulled into it with a hand on the back of his head.

His own hand goes back to the spot above Babe’s heart, soon covered with Babe’s trembling fingers, and it’s all… It’s very much, all at once. But Gene isn’t one to say things without meaning them, and he knows Babe isn’t one to hold back on his own emotions. Already, he knows this.

True to his instinct, it doesn't take long for Babe to pull Gene up to whisper, “me too. I’m so fucking gone for you, Gene, I— it’s not even funny. I never wanna go back to not having you.”

“You won’t have to,” Eugene promises, laying down on his side and tugging on Babe’s arm until he’s also on his side, the two of them facing each other. Babe quickly pushes an arm in under Gene’s head, pulling him in closer, kissing him deeper. “Gonna be here forever, now, I promise.”

They get comfortable like that, Gene pulling the duvet over them and Babe twining their legs together, and after a while their making out slows down into gentler and gentler kissing, Babe’s lips against his and their tongues sliding together gently. It’s like a series of kisses more than one long one, and eventually that peters out too, more and more chaste until Babe is just giving Eugene peck after peck to his lips.

“Can’t wait to wake up with you,” he mumbles after a while, making Gene open his eyes to look at him. Babe is blinking like he’s very tired, but trying to stay awake to give Eugene more kisses. It’s cute. Eugene loves how fucking cute this boy is, sometimes, which he never assumed he would. He never was a fan of sentimentality, but he is when it comes to Babe. 

_It’s almost as if you were meant to find each other_ , he thinks, his inner Ralph rolling its eyes at him. Gene thinks it can fuck off.

“Me too,” he says quietly, rolling himself over gently to be able to pull Babe’s arms closer around him. He’s so warm, and Gene doesn’t think he’s ever been this comfortable. 

“Promise me you’ll still be here?” Babe mumbles into the nape of Eugene’s neck, holding him tight and pushing one of his legs forward between Gene’s.

“Of course I will be,” Eugene tells him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just wanted to make sure.” Yawning and burrowing deeper into Gene, Babe’s quiet for so long Gene’s convinced he’s fallen asleep. “Trust you. Know it’s true if you promise.”

Eugene has to close his eyes for a second, feeling Babe’s chest move against his back, trying to calm his aching heart down. “I promise, Babe. Always gonna be here when you need me.”

Babe doesn’t respond, has probably fallen asleep, and Eugene eventually closes his eyes too.

He’s never felt so at home. It’s only been a few weeks, but Babe’s arms already feel more like a home than the rest of his whole apartment, Eugene fitting in so well and feeling so safe. If he gets to choose, it’s how he’d like to spend the rest of his life.

_Maybe the universe really does know what it’s doing,_ Gene thinks, falling asleep to the feeling of Babe’s breath against his skin and the warmth of his body behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> The tumblr post that also inspired me, posted by edema-ruh:
>
>> Soulmate AU where Enjolras has “sorry I don’t mean to startle you but there’s a spider on your hair” tattooed on his arm and Grantaire has just the capitalized letter A repeating and twisting all over his body (like a scream), from the top of his shoulder to the bottom of his foot and the both of them are very apprehensive about finding their soulmate
> 
> \---------
> 
> A/N, Dec 30th: aaaaaaaaah this has been so much fun! I was not originally a part of the holiday exchange, but jumped in in late november because the duality of soulmate au and baberoe Spoke to me on a primal level haha. I personally have no one to thank specifically, but I will instead thank every person who joined in and participated this year! <3 the outcome of fic has truly been so so incredible, and I'm so excited to be a part of any future events.
> 
> Until then, [come say hi on tumblr](mariamegale.tumblr.com), or over on the [Band of Brothers public discord server](https://discord.gg/JZVc2Jk) <3 and we can talk there! <3 (or here, if you'd rather comment anything lol.) love you all, and a happy new year to you!


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